


The Man-Machine Dichotomy

by Balenae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon is for squares, Genyatta Zine, Human Zenyatta, M/M, Pre-Slash, apparently, cyborg genji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 13:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11624649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balenae/pseuds/Balenae
Summary: Genji finds himself at the Shambali Monastery, awaiting his chance to speak the Omnics on the mountain about that state of his body and mind in a last-ditch shot at peace.What and who he find are not what he expects at all.





	The Man-Machine Dichotomy

**Author's Note:**

> This was my submission for the Genyatta Zine, uploaded late because I r a dumb and life is suddenly very full. 
> 
> I was so honored to be able to join and create fanwork alongside some incredibly talented artists and writers. It was very humbling in the best of ways. I'm still so thankful for the chance. 
> 
> The word limit was 3,000 and I cut it pretty tight. If I had to do it again I would definitely take more time with this. My Beta even remarked that it seemed different from how I normally write. Not sure if this is crap. 
> 
> The Genyatta Zine blog can be found here: http://genyattazine.tumblr.com/

_“You’re really leaving Overwatch then?”_

__Genji turned and found Angela standing just in the doorway to his barracks room, her arms crossed, watching him.

“I had hoped it was a rumor,” She continued, “But… I would be lying if I said I hadn’t seen this coming for a long time now.”

“You know I cannot stay,” Genji said, packing the few belongings that he’d collected over the years he’d spent in Overwatch into one small duffel. “And you know why.”

Angela sighed, “I wish we had done better by you, Genji.” She grew quiet a moment, “Where will you go?”

“I don’t know.” Even if he did he wouldn’t have said.

“May I make a suggestion to you then?” She waited for his slow nod before she continued. “There’s always the Shambali.” She smiled, “The monks on the mountaintop that Omnic rights activists love to quote. Maybe… I mean… souls within machines, right?”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it,” Genji replied. I was all he could promise.

She offered him that sad, tired smile again, “As your doctor, you know, I wish you wouldn’t go. So much could go wrong, and so much could do you real damage.”

Genji zipped up the bag, so light and nearly empty, “And as my friend?”

“As your friend,” She stepped back, making to leave, “Good luck.”

\--

It took him some years, but even looking back on it, that he ended up in Nepal shouldn’t have been much of a surprise. Genji idly reflected that the man he’d been before would’ve never so easily followed suggestions, or, in fact, gone to a temple for some sort of _guidance_. How far he’d fallen.

He waited at the great shrine that sat above the local village—but below the temple itself—watching as other pilgrims prayed at the monument or stayed indoors to keep warm. Wanting neither himself, Genji waited outside, alone. With the Shambali as noteworthy figures these days, security was active, and, after several attempted assassinations—one, sadly successful—the Omnic monks were a bit more careful of who they allowed to visit their temple. Though as he understood it, listening to the villagers speak, they did try to accommodate as many people as possible.

It had taken him a long time to get up that damn mountain, and he didn’t appreciate the waiting. He paced a tight line back and forth between pillars at the base of the large shrine, lost in the tangle of his own thoughts.

So engrossed in his own struggles, he barely registered the shrieking laugh of children until it was nearly upon him, loud and cacophonous to his own aural sensors. Turning to see just what the commotion was—

—he bumped full into someone trying to move past him.

“Oh dear!” The nudge hadn’t moved him but Genji watched as what appeared to be a young monk—human—bounced off of his shoulder, garbed in the gray and white of the Shambali. He had a small child on his shoulders that was patting at his bald head, grabbing at the nine moxibustion marks on his forehead as if to grab them off. Behind him a gaggle of more children watched Genji with wide eyes and curious faces. He’d never liked being stared at. “My apologies, traveler, I was a touch distracted.” The monk offered a warm, friendly smile, his bright, blue eyes shining with mirth, face young and admittedly lovely.

Genji had stopped being swayed by a pretty face long ago. “Hmph. Watch where you’re going then.”

The monk seemed to smile wider and bowed a touch, careful of the child he carried, and herded his pack off dutifully.

Genji watched him go, eyes lingering on smooth brown skin before shaking himself. He was just a touch curious, that was all. He supposed it made sense that the Shambali allowed human monks as well as Omnics.

Inanely, he wondered if the young monk was cold.

\--

As the day passed into afternoon he was finally allowed to make his climb towards Shambali temple. The blonde security guard that sent him on his way told him that Mondatta himself would be hearing his petition, and to show proper respect when he arrived. This didn’t surprise Genji at all really, and he made the climb steadily. He couldn’t imagine there were terribly many cyborgs that appeared seeking guidance.

The ascent up the path to the temple was precarious, even for him, but upon laying eyes on his destination, he thought it worthwhile.

The ancient stone monastery the Shambali called home was grand and towering, and Genji stared up at its reaching spires as he drew near. Treading slowly through the lines of suspended statues of Omnics in meditation along the approach he felt a sense of calm settle over him. No wonder pilgrims sought this place. He hoped the Omnics within might have words and wisdom enough to stay the restless hopelessness that settled deep within his chest, clouded his thoughts, and ran through his veins like tar—black, toxic, and far more viscous than blood.

As he walked in he was greeted by a female Omnic monk standing just inside—so much warmer within somehow, the glow of hundreds of candles lit every corner of the interior—who directed him with attending words. “Mondatta will see you immediately. You can find him in the main room. He is eager to meet you.”

Genji nodded in wordless thanks and continued where directed, stepping into the huge main chamber of the temple. He wasn’t sure what he thought to find when he encountered Mondatta, but an Omnic speaking easily with two of his followers with no pomp or circumstance was not it at all. He supposed he expected to see someone of this Omnic’s stature and power covered by yet more security and expectant of supplication.

But as he walked over, Mondatta turned and nodded to him, saying something to the two monks with him who gently excused themselves. Genji knelt before him and bowed his head, moved to pay respect where none was asked for.

Mondatta waved him up. “You garnered a great deal of attention down at the shrine, you know. You are not like most pilgrims that have come seeking Shambali monastery.” He tilted his head, “In fact we have never seen your like before. What has brought you to us, traveler?”

Genji stood and searched for the words to express himself. Strange that they seemed hard to find after so long with nothing to do but dwell. “I have come seeking balance.”

“Balance you say?” Mondatta considered, “And what does ‘balance’ mean for someone like yourself?”

Genji again struggled with words, but not because he couldn’t find them, “I do not feel… human anymore.”

“Ah, so you are a cyborg,” Mondatta said with clearer understanding. “What is your name?”

“Genji Shimada,” At least this he could answer easily.

“Then welcome to Shambali Temple, Genji Shimada. I am Tekhartha Mondatta.”

“Can you help me?” It was a question he was almost afraid to ask now, having come to the end of the world to speak it.

Mondatta nodded, unbothered by his doubt, “I believe so. I believe you could find much in the way of help here. But if humanity troubles you, if you struggle with your own duality, the man-machine dichotomy so to speak, than the one you need to speak to is not I. Instead, you would do well to speak with Tekhartha Zenyatta.”

“Zenyatta?” A name, a possible end to his journey, “Where can I find him?”

“He is usually on the Western Terrace this time of day. Watching the sunset.”

“And you truly believe he can help me?” Genji did not mean to question, but after so long it was hard to commit to hope.

“If anyone can help you, it will be Zenyatta,” Mondatta said, his voice steady and certain.

\--

The Western Terrace was but steps away and in minutes Genji emerged from the temple and back out into the sunlight, strong and over-bright as the day came to a close. Through the glare he could just barely pick out the form of a slim figure garbed in robes and leaning on the railing. “Are you Tekhartha Zenyatta?”

“I am,” A smooth voice agreed, quiet, curious, and somehow familiar—“And who might you be?”

Genji squinted behind the visor, the sun painfully bright and raised a hand to try and block some of the glare. “I am Genji Shimada. I spoke with Mondatta, having come here seeking… guidance. He said that if anyone would be able to understand the balance between man and machine—“ he cut off, seeing the monk more clearly. Skin and flesh—a human looked back at him with blue eyes. “You… You’re just a boy! A human boy. The one from the shrine!” he recognized him now, anger beginning to boil within him.

“A boy?” This monk, Zenyatta, smiled placidly, his expression amused, “Well that is hardly charitable.”

“If I had known I was going to be treated with such disrespect,” Genji began, hands clenching into fists, “I would never have come. You can’t possibly understand.”

He turned, ready to storm back through the door and give every careless Omnic in here a piece of his mind before getting off this awful mountain—

—When a blue charge of Omnic energy smashed into the stone doorway next to his head with a clear chime like a bell.

Genji turned, slowly, shock coloring every line of his body.

Zenyatta stood there, the same soft, almost infuriating smile on his face, hand extended, energy dissipating from it. He flexed his hand, “Are you so certain that I cannot? Is it not strange how something can feel so like yourself and yet so foreign, hmm? Like a static spark in my fingertips.” He watched his own hand move, “I wonder if I will ever truly grow used to it.”

Genji swallowed, eyes wide and staring behind his visor, “How? How did you use Omnic energy? What are you?”

The young man tucked his hands before him and walked towards Genji slowly, “Mondatta was not lying to you. If you have questions about the nature of man and machine then I may be the _only_ one who can understand. I could also ask the same question of you, you know. What are _you_ , Genji?”

“I,” Genji looked him over, enhanced eyesight looking for any detail to pick out, anything that might name this man as a machine, but all he found was that same soft-looking skin, attractive young face, and all-too sharp blue eyes. “I am a cyborg. I was… created using the broken remnants of a man, nearly slain by—“ He was some strange amalgamation of parts and memories, his throat shouldn’t have been able to close so— “I was nearly slain by my own—“

“Shh,” Genji hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes beneath the visor until he opened them, and found Zenyatta standing close, long-fingered hands cupping his face around the helm gently, before moving to rest on his shoulders. “Easy. No wonder you have found yourself here, so troubled by such a simple, intrinsic question.” The monk’s smile, when it came, was sympathetic and understanding and Genji had never before been faced with someone who thought they understood him and _believed_ them.

“And you?” Genji asked slowly, needing to understand Zenyatta just as much suddenly. Never before had he felt like he had to understand another. He’d been so preoccupied with understanding himself for so long he felt nearly drunk with it. He repeated his question, “What are _you_?”

Zenyatta’s expression grew only more mischievous and he stepped back, hands falling away, and spread them in invitation, “Come with me, Genji Shimada, and find out.” And with that he turned and headed back into the temple, just as the orb of the sun began to dip behind the peaks of the mountains.

Genji hesitated, feeling as though he were standing on a precipice, and then followed. He could do no else.

“Where are we going?” He couldn’t help but ask. It didn’t feel like a lull, the frisson of excitement lingered still, building to something. How long had it been since he’d felt like this? Interested, excited, curious and consumed with wonder—What was this? What was _he_?

“I need to show you something, so I am certain you understand.” Zenyatta’s face angled back and he saw the flicker of one bright, blue iris beneath long lashes, “You will see.”

They crossed from the Western wing of the temple to the Eastern, and out onto the opposite terrace, so much darker here, not bathed in the golden radiance of the setting sun.

But there in the center of the terrace was a small stone stand, and even in the fading light Genji could tell the stone was a different shade than the temple, lighter, newer, and it was covered over with candles, the soft illumination nearly the only bit of brilliance on the dark terrace. A picture sat there, an Omnic face he didn’t recognize, and he’d taken a step towards it before he even realized.

“Go on,” Zenyatta urged, “Please.” His voice now, so soft and reverent, so different than the cheeky, charming, playful cast he’d had before.

So Genji approached and kneeled before the strange monument—no, _memorial_ , he realized—on the Eastern terrace, eyes looking over the image, the Omnic pictured was chrome and gold with a nine-point grid array, and around the picture sat nine golden orbs amongst a trove of tokens and gifts left for this Omnic clearly departed. “Who was this?”

Soft steps and he tilted his head to see the human monk standing next to him. “This… is the last remembrance for the Shambali monk who was assassinated.” Blue eyes locked to Genji’s unerringly, even hidden though they were behind the green line of his visor. “The last remembrance of a monk that died over two decades ago, Tekhartha Zenyatta—“

“But that’s—?” Genji breathed, certain he must’ve heard wrong, “That can’t—But you said—“

“—The _first_.”

“What—?” Genji barely had time to speak before Zenyatta moved, his blue eyes closing and his hands spreading wide. A chime of delicate sound drew Genji’s focus and he turned from the spectacle of the young monk in time to see the nine orbs on the marker light blue and float into the air. They swirled around the cyborg fluidly, spinning through the air and he turned, trying to keep sight of all of them, before they moved to the human monk, spiraling around him curving at his whim as he moved his hands.

“What are you?” Genji breathed again, and then revised his question, thinking better. _Knowing_ better. “ _Who_ are you?”

Zenyatta’s eyes opened, sharp and blue and a nine point array of Omnic light superimposed over his moxibustion marks, blazing blue, and the orbs hung suspended around him, turning and alive about his shoulders. “I am the reincarnation of his holiness, the first Tekhartha Zenyatta, born again to this world. Given new shape, new _life_ to better understand the Iris and the wonder that is existence basking in its golden halo.”

“You’re a machine,” Genji realized and corrected himself immediately, voice soft and wondering, “You were a machine.”

“I was,” Zenyatta said, stepping closer, but the array stayed, and the orbs floated silently around him, spreading to surround them both. “And I _understand_ , Genji. I know what it’s like to be something else, to be _both_. To sometimes look in a mirror and wonder who is looking back.” He reached up and laid a gentle hand on Genji’s jaw again, but it was too much and the cyborg dropped his head, unable to look any longer.

“You do,” He murmured, soft and reverent, “You really understand this—me.” 

“I do,” Zenyatta said and Genji raised his head, knowing somehow he’d find that soft, warm smile again and his heart fluttered when he saw he was right. The human monk watched the orbs for a moment. “I do not keep them with me very often these days. I usually leave them in the company of my previous life.” He pointed to his glowing array with a wry smile, “This can be a touch distracting for the pilgrims.”

“How did you know?” Genji asked, reaching out gently to touch a golden orb as it floated past, “How did you know what you were? How did you accept it?”

“Mondatta was granted a vision of my rebirth during mediation in which he touched upon the Iris,” Zentatta said, flicking his hand so the orb came back around to hover in front of Genji, smile widening when the cyborg reached up and cupped his hands around it. “He found me when I was six years old and I grew up here at Shambali temple, learning the truth of the Iris and of myself.”

“You’ve always known, then,” Genji said.

“I would like you to stay here, Genji, and study under me.” Zenyatta said, hope and conviction bright as the blue of his eyes, “I want you to have this same opportunity. I will help you find your own acceptance. I can think of nothing I want more. I do not believe I have ever truly met another who understood me either.”

What sort of man had he become that he sought such guidance, Genji had wondered.

Perhaps a man who had found the one who could deliver him peace.

“Yes. I will remain with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no concrete ideas for continuing this, but I am open to it. Both because I have always wanted to explore my own take on human Zenyatta and because human Zen on Cyborg Genji sounds just... hmmmm. Yes.
> 
> Keep in mind if this is continued the rating then will likely jump up to explict down the line, for those of you who that isn't your thing.
> 
> I did a really crappy illustration for this fic of human Zenyatta that can be found on my tumblr, here (http://balenae.tumblr.com/post/162068467248/my-own-version-of-human-zenyatta-as-written-in-my). Its not quite right, but I couldn't make it look like I wanted without it being trypophobic as shit. So.


End file.
